When the drums beckoned from Accomgpong Town,
my grandfather run, and run, and run;
my grandfather ran at high speed
over saw-toothed terrain
with vicious rocks hacking at naked soles,
and blood-hounds mauling at his heels.
My grandfather wore stripes
like the red, white and blue;
and when the hot sun rides raw waves on his back,
my grandfather stand tall to wipe sweat from his brow,
then my grandfather wear whips
that echoes louder than the drums
that called beyond Mount Diablo,
but no one was running to his rescue.
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